“I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you, and I'll die knowing I still didn't do enough.”

“You have shown me through the darkest nights you still shine for me. You've become more than some fantasy, you've become the fantasy you promised me existed.”

“My mind is saying I'm losing what's left of it...my heart is saying I have no choice.”

“It's like I've had a stroke. Do you think I've had a stroke?" "I don't think you've had a stroke.""But how do you know? How can you be sure I haven't had a stroke?""What are the symptoms of a stroke?""I don't know. Look them up. Look them up on line.""OK. Hold on...OK. Here it is. Do you have trouble speaking?""I have trouble speaking intelligently.”

“Okay. I'll help you fight. What do you think we're up against? Bears, Coyotes...""My Brother.”

“And what nags me about this is that the source of my anxiety was exactly what Kierkegaard says the source of anxiety is, and what he praised in direct proportion to the volume any person possesses: possibility. The awareness that life is a series of choices any one of which could be either aggrandizing or disastrous. That this happens to be true I have no trouble signing on to. Any who has lived past the age of ten knows that even piddling actions can wind up having big consequences, and that even when you are super-conscious of your behaviors you can't know how things are going to turn out in the short- or the long-run. That's the drama of it all. On the one hand, your very existence means you can and will change things in your life and others. On the other hand, you aren't God, so everything is always going to be drenched in uncertainty and doubt.”

“I'll either make it or I wont:But I'm sure gonna try”